Breathless
by Lomesir
Summary: Jim's journey to trying breathplay was long and arduous. Looking back, it was also kind of funny.


The first time he brought up the subject, it was with Bones when they were relaxing after final exams in their second year at the Academy.

Bones spat out his drink, spraying Jim with rather expensive brandy.

"Are you out of your _mind_?"

In later years Jim could see how asking the infamously paranoid Dr. McCoy for tips on erotic asphyxiation was a stupid idea from the get-go.

Bones jumped up and stalked off into his bedroom, leaving Jim to wipe his face on his friend's jacket and sigh. The night had started off so well.

They'd spent the evening watching movies in the living room of the apartment they shared, chatting about past conquests. When Bones laughingly told him of an ex-girlfriend's interest in domination, Jim had taken a large gulp of his drink and asked his educated friend for some tips in a similar department.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you, actually," Jim began, aiming for nonchalant. His doctor friend raised an eyebrow.

"If it's whether you can have sex with Gaila on a hospital bed, the answer is no."

Jim rolled his eyes. "No, it's not that. Though, it does have to do with Gaila." Jim studied his fingernails. "She asked me to choke her—just a little!—the other night in bed…"

Bones frowned and took a sip of brandy.

"…and I was wondering how one might go about doing that safely," Jim finished lamely.

That's when Bones had flipped his lid.

Jim was about to put away the movies when Bones appeared from the bedroom with a PADD and pointed at him.

"You. Sit."

Jim sat.

"Let me tell you a little something about erotic asphyxiation, kid. Do you know how many people die every year?"

And so the evening turned into yet another Leonard McCoy rant.

Later that night Jim told Gaila he wasn't comfortable choking her (but would she like some head instead?), and the subject was dropped.

* * *

Years passed. Jim met Spock and hated him on sight. Hatred turned into grudging respect, grudging respect turned into admiration, admiration turned into love, and love turned into the best sex of Jim's life.

The second time the subject came up, Jim wasn't entirely sure why he said anything at all.

They were lying together, tangled in the sheets and basking in post-coital haze. Jim's fingers were lazily drawing little shapes on Spock's chest. Spock's fingers were lightly brushing Jim's throat. Jim hummed a little at the contact.

Spock opened his eyes.

"Jim, why are you thinking of an Orion woman right now?"

Damn.

Jim desperately tried to collect his thoughts into a coherent sentence. "Um…your hand…my throat…just reminded me of something someone asked…once…it's nothing, seriously. Sorry to kill your buzz." He kissed Spock gently on the lips and closed his eyes, fully ready for sleep.

Spock propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Jim. "Clarify, please."

Jim groaned. It wasn't that he was particularly bothered by talking about erotic asphyxiation—"breathplay", Gaila had insisted he call it—but that he didn't feel like talking about a dead lover's kinks while a current lover's semen was still in his hair.

"Spock, it's nothing. Really. Please let it go."

"Did you try to murder this woman?"

Jim rolled over and looked up at Spock. "I take it you saw something that looked like choking." Jim and Spock hadn't established a proper bond yet, but Spock did pick up the occasional thought during sex.

Spock didn't answer, so Jim continued. "Sometimes people like to be choked during sex, just a little bit. Gaila was one of those people."

Even someone who didn't know Spock would've said he looked a bit confused. Jim supposed breathplay wasn't a thing to Vulcans. Maybe they got their kink on some other way.

"It has to do with oxygen deprivation and the giddiness it causes, I think," Jim said, thinking back to the one-sided conversation he'd had with Bones that night so many years before. "They don't want to get choked to death, just enough to cause that feeling. Apparently it feels pretty amazing mixed with jerking off, or normal sex."

He leaned up and kissed Spock again. "I guess your hands on my throat reminded me for a moment of that conversation." He rolled over and closed his eyes. "Like I said, it's nothing."

There was a long silence, and then:

"Would you like me to briefly deprive you of oxygen during our next sexual intercourse? The concept has merit." A wicked glint appeared in his eye. "Besides, combining an inquisitive mind like my own, sound anatomical knowledge from Dr. McCoy, and your obligingly high libido sounds like a pleasurable time for all."

What Jim _wanted_ was for this conversation to end. He wasn't afraid of kinky sex, but choking just didn't sound very sexy. Still, if Spock wanted to try something, he'd respect that. "Sure," he said. "We can try anything you want. Just don't tell Bones," he murmured. "He doesn't like this stuff." Minutes later, he was asleep.

Four nights after that, the quiet of the medical bay was interrupted by a medical alert from the Captain's quarters.

After retrieving the unconscious Captain from his quarters, Dr. McCoy didn't comment on the fact that the younger man's pajama shirt was backwards and his pants inside-out, nor did he comment on the Commander's trembling hands. No, he was too busy staring at the unsightly bruises around his best friend's throat. He'd treated more than one survivor of domestic abuse with bruises just like that.

A memory floated to the surface of his mind: Spock, enraged and unstoppable, beating Jim into submission and choking the life out of him.

But that wasn't right. They'd forgiven each other. That was then, this was now.

Members of the medical team attended to the Captain, and Dr. McCoy went over to where Spock was sitting.

"You're going to tell me everything. Don't even bother trying to bullshit me."

Spock saw his green-tinged face reflected in a cabinet door, and he honestly didn't know whether he was blushing or nauseous. So much for experimentation during sexual intercourse.

* * *

Lieutenant Sulu was kind of the reason for the third time the subject came up in any form, though he certainly didn't mean to be.

Another Lieutenant named Ashcraft had been tasked with teaching a class on hand-to-hand combat to the crewmen in Security. The Captain had taken to watching and, occasionally, participating. Sulu joined from time to time, especially during demonstrations with the Captain. Nobody in the enlisted ranks wanted to be the guy who gave the captain a black eye.

Lieutenant Ashcraft called for everyone's attention. "This move I'm about to show you is called the guillotine choke. In Judo, we call it the Mae Hadaka Jime."

Everyone repeated the name and Ashcraft nodded, pleased. "A word of caution: this move can be lethal if applied incorrectly, so watch carefully. Mr. Sulu, if you would help me demonstrate."

Sulu walked forward and the two lieutenants proceeded to carefully and deliberately move into the choke position. After the demonstration, the class broke into pairs and Lieutenant Ashcraft moved about the room, moving hands into the correct place and correcting body positions.

Sulu joined the Captain in the corner. "Wanna try?"

Jim grinned. "Of course."

The first time Jim tried to choke Sulu, Sulu yelped and Jim immediately let go. Sulu massaged his neck. "I think you bruised my windpipe, holy shit."

Lieutenant Ashcraft came over a minute late and corrected the Captain's mistake.

Sulu tried next, with similar results. After three seconds, Jim's neck hurt and Sulu let go as if he'd been burned, apologizing profusely.

"Don't worry about it, Sulu," Jim said. "It was actually kind of hard to breathe, so I think you've almost got it. Let's give it another go."

Sulu looked doubtful, but he moved into position and applied the chokehold.

Jim's air cut off immediately, and because Sulu's arms were covering his ears, he couldn't hear the helmsman directions to signal if he needed air.

Jim's legs gave out quite suddenly, and Sulu released the chokehold at once. He caught him as he fell, gently laying him down on the floor mat. Jim had the distinct impression that he was looking at the world through drinking straws.

Everyone was running and yelling, but Jim didn't really care. As his vision came back into focus, the only thing he was aware of was the creeping euphoria in the back of his mind that fought to take over. He giggled a bit, and then the gates in his mind broke and he started laughing uncontrollably.

"Oh my God, he's in shock," someone whispered.

* * *

The fourth time was going to be his last time, if the assassin had his way.

Fortunately for Jim, the assassin wasn't very good at his job.

Jim quickly disarmed the masked intruder who'd somehow sneaked into his quarters, but he couldn't quite subdue him. They grappled on the floor for one hectic minute until Jim was on his back, the man sitting astride his chest. Suddenly hands were on his throat and Jim couldn't breathe.

One second—how did Ashcraft throw off an opponent from a supine position?

Two seconds—where the hell was his phaser?

Three seconds—where the hell was _Spock_?

Four seconds—how was it possible to feel so hot and cold at the same time?

Five seconds—things were fuzzy.

Six seconds—things were dark.

"JIM!"

Air flooded into his lungs and his head swam, feeling light and leaden and prickly and hollow.

Jim was dimly aware of a dull thud nearby, and then Spock's voice from somewhere both close by and far away, perhaps at the end of a tunnel. Spock was calling him, asking him to look at him. Startlingly hot lips were on his suddenly, and breath filled his mouth and throat. Spock was trying to breathe for him.

Jim closed his eyes—when had he opened them?—and basked in the undulating warmth seeping through his whole being. It was lightness and pleasure and happiness. His face felt odd; perhaps he was smiling?

His whole body shook suddenly, and he realized he was laughing hysterically.

He threw his arms up around Spock and pulled him on top of him, not caring that he'd just been nearly murdered. Speech was beyond him right now, but he could appreciate Spock's lips. A tiny voice in his mind reminded him that kissing was not the normal reaction to almost being murdered.

Spock gently pulled away. "Jim, I need to bring you to the medical bay. You require medical attention."

Jim didn't so much sit up and kiss Spock. It was more like he sprung up and launched himself at him, laughing all the while. Spock awkwardly pushed the medical alert code—awkwardly because Jim was trying to pull Spock's shirt off.

A couple hours later the CMO was mulling over a PADD, trying to find a delicate way to describe the scene he'd walked in on. Specifically, how was he supposed to enter into the medical log that he'd found the captain simultaneous suffering from asphyxia and trying to strip the First Officer?

"Ya'll are goddamned crazy," Bones muttered to nobody in particular.


End file.
